Bad Analogies 4

Even in his last years, grandpappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut. (unknown)

Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do. (unknown)

The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work. (unknown)

The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while. (unknown)

"Oh, Jason, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving like a college freshman on $1-a-beer night. (unknown)

He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a landmine or something. (unknown)

The Ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant. (unknown)

It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids with power tools. (unknown)

He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up. (unknown)

She was as easy as the TV guide crossword. (unknown)

Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser. (unknown)

She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs. (unknown)

Her voice had that tense grating quality, like a generation thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightening. (unknown)

It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall. (unknown)

She was sending me mixed signals like a dyslexic third-base coach. (Jack Bross)

She felt used and unwanted, like the two chocolate halves of an Oreo cookie after someone has already licked the cream out of them. (Kristi Herd)

My underwear stuck to my backside like an All-Pro cornerback to a rookie wide receiver as I browsed through the seed catalog that had mistakenly found its way into my mailbox. (Ron Calabrese)



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